Category Archives: about me

“Sometimes the person who’s been there for everyone else needs to be there for herself.” S. Kim Henson

I’m funniest in the shower, like this morning. I asked myself a slightly revised question from the movie Sabrina, and in the same tone William Holden asked it of Audrey Hepburn, “Where have I been all my life?”

I laughed, and then, giving it a second thought, genuinely asked it out loud, “Where have I been all my life?”

By the time I wrapped myself in a towel, I sounded annoyed, “Where have I been all my life?”

An hour later, I scrolled through Christmas photos on my phone and found the one I shared above of my three-year-old granddaughter. Her self-studying picture reminded me I hadn’t answered my question, and to answer it gently.

A friend’s suggestion to evaluate my life in seven-year scenes, or thereabouts, seemed a good idea for coming up with an account of where I’ve been. Aside from specifics, maybe you’ll relate.

I spent the first eight years or so of my life – Scene One – growing up on military bases in New York. Mom disliked being away from her family in South Carolina, which meant Dad tried appeasing her until he could get her back to the South. Homesick wasn’t all that was wrong, so I set out at a very young age to figure out and fix us.

I confused a playful childhood with child labor – trying to be silly enough, cute enough, and obedient enough to give Mom and Dad reasons to lighten up, laugh, and be happy in place of her crying and him covering his pain with anger.

Dad was stationed in Vietnam the first year of Scene Two, around the time I turned nine. He moved Mom, my brother, and me to Mom’s childhood home in South Carolina, which also meant being moved in with my great aunt who raised my mom. I cherished Aunt Viola, but I think Dad felt differently. When he returned to the states, he bought a motel in a nearby resort town and lived there seven, then eight, and finally nine months out of every year.

By then, I was hiding out because we weren’t normal anymore. We no longer had a dad, a mom, and siblings living together while Dad worked 9 to 5. Being “not normal anymore” also meant my mentally ill uncle moved in and out of my great aunt’s house, so he lived with us on and off. His disturbing behavior left behind even more to hide.

During Scene Three, I graduated from high school, chose a local college since I was too anxious to move away, and attached myself to my future husband to help me escape the house I wouldn’t leave. We eloped at age 20. Mom gifted us baby presents because she was certain I’d run off to get married because I’d gotten pregnant. Our first child was born five years later.

I ran, although uncertain where I was headed. In retrospect, I was making a run for the metaphorical white picket fence, a place where I convinced myself I’d feel loved enough, taken care of enough, and safe enough.

For the next 28 years, the next four scenes of my life, I moved back to my hometown to live close by my parents who I eventually distanced myself from. I made up a fairytale marriage. I birthed and raised two children (who, by the way, are my two accomplishments that are “enough”). I worked determinedly and went back to school for degrees to teach, counsel, supervise, and write so as to increase my income and my self-worth, and to prove myself to people who weren’t paying much attention. I chose some wrong friends who made me feel important for the same “wrong” reason I picked them – their prominence, not their praiseworthiness. Most of my actions were okay, but my motives, well, not so much. I did a lot of what I did in hopes that I’d earn enough, buy enough, elevate myself enough, help enough, be seen enough, be needed enough, accomplish enough to ultimately persuade myself I was enough.

I immersed myself in other people’s scenes so I wouldn’t have to engage in my own conflicted ones. I lost myself in their lives because I wasn’t sure how to get my own.

It wasn’t until my most recent scene, preceded by Dad’s death and when I was coming up on 50, that I began showing up the way I believe we’re supposed to – for me, for my life’s purpose, and for my God. I stepped back from being confused, hiding, running, and immersing myself in others. I’m excited you’re still reading because this is the scene with the hashtags, the ones that help us focus on ourselves. #selfcaringin2017 #gettingyourownlife #whilelovingthepeopleinit

But first, before I worked my way up to wondering Where have I been all my life?, I wondered where all these people, places, and things in my life came from. At half-a-century-old (that’ll get your attention), I was no longer able to disregard uncomfortable questions that kept surfacing.

Questions like …

Why am I living in this big house? In this town? Why do I do for others what they can and should do for themselves? Why do I spend time with people I discern aren’t friends or even kind, for that matter? Why’d I spend money on that? Why do I tolerate disrespect? Lying? Others calling me crazy when they’re the ones driving me there? Why don’t I feel emotionally safe? Why don’t I fit in at church? Any church? Ever? Why do I rise to others’ expectations, but not my own? Why am I avoiding the gym? Why do I sidestep genuine friendships? Why am I procrastinating when productivity makes me feel good? Why don’t I pick up the phone when I need someone? Why don’t I like to cook? Why do I make writing difficult? Why am I eating a third Reese Cup?

Nine years of “cleaning house,” sometimes literally like the time we downsized from 4,000 to 1,000 square feet, and I’m finally asking the foundational question that undergirds the rest, “Where have I been all my life?”

… and how appropriate for it to pop into my head at the start of 2017, the year I’ve committed to self-care … and how appropriate during a shower because water is a big part of my self-care.

So, where have I been all my life? Answer the question, already.

I’m where most of us are right now, no matter our ages – I’m right here (like on the map in a shopping center: “You are here”) and doing all I can to make my story better. Aren’t we all? Isn’t “being better” what most of us attempt daily in our lives? We try to look younger, eat healthier, get wealthier, promote louder, work harder, act calmer, help further, workout longer, treat others kinder, connect deeper, pray profounder, feel stronger, and all so we’ll be better.

We just want to “arrive,” and though arriving is impossible this side of heaven, I believe one inroad to being better is self-care. I hope you’re with me since it’s easier to get better together. #selfcaringin2017

In This Together,
Kim

I’m inviting you back next week to read about acceptance and tolerance. #selfcaring2017 #whilelovingthepeopleinit

“Try, try, try, and keep on trying is the rule that must be followed to become an expert in anything.” W. Clement Stone

When a writer friend said I should focus my blog on relationships, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard the idea. It was, however, the first time I thought about it seriously. I knew she was on target about my blog needing to be single-minded. Relationships have been my most passionate topic and the most popular among readers.

Besides passion, though, I wondered what qualified me.

Editors and publishers ask that same question anytime a writer proposes a new idea. I figured readers would wonder also. I recognized that until I answered it for myself, I’d keep asking, “Who are you to be writing about relationships?”

Experience is typically the first thing an employer asks about.

I’ve been in relationships with thousands of people for more than 58 years. If this were any other career, I’d be retired by now and have a gold watch.

One of those people has been my husband for 37 years. We’re still together because we loved each other the best we knew how, because God loved us a whole lot more, and because I think He wants me writing about our lives.

After marrying, I spent time and money on counseling, as well as dozens of workshops and conferences to restore our marriage, rethink my other relationships, and rebirth my inner child. The latter is not like being born again in a Baptist church, which I also had happen. Instead, it’s like coming out of a cocoon of blankets while participants confirm you’re a good and lovable person. I would’ve tried almost anything to fix them and me.

We have a 33-year-old son and a 31-year-old daughter. Both are married. Our daughter and her husband have a two-and-a-half-year-old daughter and a nine-month-old son. Between our three families, we have five dogs. Anyone who says getting together with that many people and pups doesn’t offer plenty of challenges and experience for writing about relationships is either lying or healthy. I’m neither.

I have several groups of friends I get together with every month. One of them is the same group of girls who used to eat lunch together on the front lawn of our high school. There are seven or eight of us who still live close by and make it point to stay in touch. Plus, I have all of you – my online friends who sustained me not so long ago during my toughest bout with depression.

Education is next on a job application.

Growing up in my family of origin was like being home schooled for a writing career. I witnessed the destruction of dysfunctional family patterns, the sickness behind keeping secrets, and the pain caused by addictions. Our home and relationships were messy, to say the least. Siddalee Walker from “Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood” said it best when being interviewed about her writing, “If I’d had an easy childhood, I’d have absolutely nothing to write about.”

My formal education included attending a local college. I chose my major so I could find out what was wrong with me. I ended up with no answers and a Bachelor of Science in Psychology. While teaching early childhood classes for eight years, I earned a Master of Arts in Counseling and an Educational Specialist in Counselor Education. These degrees landed me in internships working with alcoholics and homeless young adults trying to get their lives on track. I got job offers from both internships, but since my own life wasn’t on track, I took a job as a middle school guidance counselor (the lesser of the three evils). Later on, a trusted friend suggested I shy away from a career in counseling because I had enough issues of my own.

When I embarked on a writing career in 2007, I trained by way of classes, conferences, and a mentor. At first glance, the work seemed all about submissions and rejections. As it turns out, it’s as much about relationships as any career I’ve worked, however, it feels emotionally safer since I’m airing dirty laundry on a computer screen. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself so I’ll keep typing.

References usually finalize the decision to hire a candidate or not.

Several of my high school friends can offer references from a half-century back, depending on their hearing and their memories that day. We’re getting older, you know.

If I liken my relational experiences and education (and all the trying that went into both) to standards set by W. Clement Stone in his quote about becoming an expert, I’m qualified.

To move forward, is there a question you need to answer? If so, I hope you’ll answer it soon.

“How’d you get started with your writing? And how’d you get published?”

I finally decided to blog about my writing detour since I’ve been asked these questions so many times.

A lot of people write, so I’m not unusual in that regard. A lot of people get published, so I’m not unusual there either. I am a little unusual, however, in that I’ve been published sans a degree in English or journalism and without initially knowing anyone in the writing industry.

Getting published is challenging enough with a degree and with connections, so, without either one, how’d it come about?

God’s been all over it, of course, but that’s not what people are asking about. Most of us know we don’t accomplish anything without him by our side. The fact is, though, for writing and publication to happen, we have to be all over it too.

I never intended to be a writer. I intended to open my own counseling practice. It wasn’t until a friend talked me out of my plan that I changed direction. She said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to sit all day in an office and listen to others’ problems.”

Here’s what she didn’t say, but probably wanted to, “You have enough problems of your own. Don’t be a counselor.”

Around that same time, two things were going on.

The first: I was studying Experiencing God, a Bible study about paying attention to where God’s working in our lives.

The second: It didn’t matter where I was, who I was talking with, or what we were talking about, family, friends, and strangers would out-of-the-blue say, “You should write about that.”

So, I did.

I wrote a book about raising teenagers. I was sure readers wanted to get their hands on a poorly written account of drama, bragging, and preaching. I didn’t get ahold of my writing or myself until a neighbor volunteered to read the 100-page manuscript. She returned it with tire marks on the pages because the day she picked it up, she drove off with it on the back of her car and it blew all over the highway. She handed it to me, apologized about the dirty pages, and said, “I let a writer friend look over it. She said you might want to swim in a pool before you try the ocean. You know, maybe write for magazines and newspapers before you try for a book, but I really like the quotes you included.”

In that moment, I felt determined to learn the craft of writing. I thought, “I’ll show her.”

The problem is, it’s a long, laborious process to proving someone wrong when it comes to writing right. Or should that read “writing well”? Anyway, it took time, but I eventually progressed from misguided motivation and showed up to do what I thought God had in mind all along. He flung open the doors. I’ve written hundreds of articles and blog posts that have been published in dozens of local, regional, and national publications. I’ve also had the opportunity to ghostwrite for local, regional, and international personalities.

Your story will be different, but all writing requires much of the same footwork. Hopefully this encourages you to show up and do the hard (and very rewarding) work of writing for yourself, for God, and for readers who need to hear your stories.

Here’s a little about my story and some bullet points to go along with it.

I drove to Greenville, S.C. to attend my first writing workshop about writing and illustrating children’s books. I had written a book for children some years earlier as part of an assignment for a counseling class. Since a friend took the time to forward the information about the event, I imagined it was a sign that the book would arouse attention. Instead of a book contract, I ended up with a flyer about classes on newspaper and magazine writing (you know, poolside writing before the ocean). The instructor was an editor in Greenville who had written for major publications like the New York Times.

For six weeks, I drove four and a half hours one-way to learn how to write right. The editor/instructor announced she needed freelance writers for three regional newspapers. When she didn’t publish me before Christmas, I signed up for six more classes. The second time around, not only did she publish my first article, she assigned me a column in all three papers, and hooked me up with other publications in Upstate S.C.

“There are two kinds of writers – writers who are bad and writers who keep learning,” she said. Here’s a list of things I do to avoid falling prey to “bad writer.”

Attend classes, conferences, and workshops. Last year, I returned to Greenville for another six-week class.

Find a mentor. I paid for critiques, as well as insider tips about being accepted by publications like LifeWay, from a well-known writer who presented at a conference I attended.

Blog regularly. Okay, so I blog irregularly, but do as I say.

Sign up for writing sites that post jobs daily. Continue to submit writing samples and clips for assignments that fit my writing style and my interests.

Familiarize myself with magazines and submit writing samples for publication.

Read inspirational books like The Artist’s Way and informational ones like The Associated Press Stylebook. Read blogs about writing, social networking, marketing, and sound business practices by people like Michael Hyatt, Rachelle Gardner, Steve Laube, and Edie Melson.

Connect with other writers, mostly online and in critique groups, but also in local networking groups, workshops, and at conferences.

Drive to Wilmington, N.C. to meet with a critique group for information, improvement, and encouragement. I cherish, instead of challenge, their feedback, then I return home and edit. My editor/instructor reminded us again and again, “Writing is rewriting.”

Write and submit stories. Sounds obvious, right? I can’t tell you how many writer friends I talk with who either aren’t writing or have never submitted a story. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve said I was a writer when I wasn’t writing.

I sometimes drag myself out of my comfort zone and write something that makes me uncomfortable.

Are you up for an encounter with writing?

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – If so, get ready for a beautiful, frustrating, gratifying, scary, procrastinating, delightful, angering, exhilarating, disheartening, uplifting, and life-changing experience that I wouldn’t trade for any other career. I’d love to hear about your experience on paper.

Susannah Friis, how did we hook up anyway? However it happened, I couldn’t be happier to share blogging space with you, my special (and sassy) Aussie friend and encourager. Check out Susannah’s blog at Personally Speaking.

Susannah sent 10 questions to be answered (I figured what better day to post than on my birthday … yep, it’s my birthday!), as well as sending the challenge to pass along the same to other bloggers.

My list of friends who have bolstered, comforted and entertained me along my scribbling path is too long to choose from, so I’m asking any of you who want to answer these questions to do so here or leave a link to your blog where you’ve posted. Thank you all for your friendship and thank you, Susannah, for this opportunity.

Best decision you ever made?

The best decisions I ever made were to have our son and daughter. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without their examples for living and loving.

Worst decision you ever made?

Even though I’ve made lots of mistakes, I have few regrets because I know I couldn’t have done anything different until I knew better. All that said, I do wish I had stayed home with my kids while they were young, especially now that I’m watching our daughter with her daughter. It’s bittersweet.

My husband taking me out for my birthday. Yes, we’re older now so we need good directions.

Your greatest weakness?

My greatest weakness has always been self-doubt.

Your greatest strength?

Out of our weakness comes strength, so I’d say compassion for those who struggle is likely my greatest strength because of how much I’ve struggled with self-doubt.

Most influential person you’ve had in your life?

I can’t choose only one person. Mine come as a group since I wouldn’t have had one without the others. The most influential people in my life are my husband, my kids and Betty, an older woman who saved our marriage and mentored me through raising our kids and helped keep them alive (kind of a joke, kind of not). I know, a pretty amazing tribute to her, right?

Most influential person you’ve never met?

My husband and I ate dinner with Jerry B. Jenkins and his wife (just the four of us) at a writing conference when someone forgot to set the table for Jerry as the keynote speaker.

And now to answer the actual question since my husband/editor pointed out I answered the wrong one. Julia Cameron, author of The Artist’s Way, comes to mind as the most influential person I’ve never met Her book has had a profound effect on my life. I’d love for someone to say the same thing one day about a book I write. Thanks for writing well, Julia.

Spending time with family is also a given, so I’d say my greatest passion is writing. Amazingly, I’m also thinking I might want to explore a career in speaking, but, for now, that is only a thought … nothing in the works.

Here’s the stream we bought.

Best purchase you ever made?

The best purchase we ever made was our mountain house that is located right beside a mountain stream. It’s the most peaceful place on the planet and we got it for a bargain. My husband said “No way” we’d ever find a place on water for anywhere near $100,000, the limit I set on our spending. We bought our fixer upper for $65,000.

Worst purchase you ever made?

The worst purchase was probably our 1971 TR6 because we never drove it, although, I have to say, it looked good sitting out in front of our house. We smelled like gas every time we got out of it since fumes backed into the car. However, we didn’t lose a dime on it. We sold it for more than we paid for it even though the buyer knew it was stinky.

What does success look like to you?

Being content where I am and with what I have. Contentment is my word for 2014, so I’ll know more about it in a year from now. Until then, I’m practicing being happy right where I am.

Within three weeks of each other, I was asked by two friends to share about myself.

One tagged me on Facebook and suggested I write seven things that others may not know. By the time I got to number three, I received a second similar message.

List 25 things about myself.

I procrastinated. Several times I struck the project from my writing to-do list, only to add it back by afternoon. I had reasons I wanted to write the list, and just as many excuses why I didn’t. I’m happy to say reasons trumped excuses, and because of that I know more about myself today than yesterday.

Here’s my list. Where’s yours?

1. I loved raising my kids through their teen years, and grew up a little myself.

2. I taught ballet, took ballroom dancing, danced on two clogging teams and performed with one, and instructed Zumba classes. I can’t shag (and I live at the beach).

3. I delivered both my children naturally and lived to tell them about it, and tell them about it, and tell them about it.

4. I ate a bowl of Jell-O while sitting in my car, just before checking into the hospital to give birth to our daughter. They told me not to eat, but who does that sort of physical labor without nourishment?

6. I was too afraid to try out for the tennis team in high school so I waited till my mid-thirties to play competitively.

7. I like shoes a LOT. At this moment, I own 73 pairs, and that’s after downsizing. Ridiculous, I know.

8. I’ve had articles published in and on Clubhouse magazine, The Daily Green, MSN.com, This Old House magazine, Lifeway publications, and most recently, Jeff Goins’ blog.

9. I hiked the Appalachian Trail (for a day), hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back out, walked a remote and very high section of the Great Wall, and rode to the top of the St. Louis Gateway Arch. I’m afraid of heights.

10. I’ve been married 34 years to my best friend. Our gentle years are ahead.

11. I wanted to be a counselor most of my life till family and friends said I should write. Best advice (and therapy) ever – it helps to put my thoughts on paper. My hope is readers’ days are a little more well-written and brightened by my writing.

12. I see the ocean every day, unless we’re traveling.

13. I appreciate encouraging, honest and kind friends more than ever. I say “I’m sorry” more easily than ever. I say “I love you” more often than ever.

14. I’ve ridden my own Honda Rebel motorcycle and on the back of my husband’s Harley and Gold Wing. These days I prefer a golf cart.

15. I feel sleepy when I hear the sound of a vacuum cleaner. My husband sometimes vacuum while I relax on the couch.

16. I cry every time I read Martin Luther King, Jr’s words “I have a dream.”

17. I listened to Rascal Flatts’ song “I’m Movin’ On” hundreds of times before I moved on.

18. When I’m around my granddogs, I talk in their voices almost as much as I do my own.

20. I’m alive today because of my friend Betty and my kids. Love and gratitude pale when I try to put into words their contributions to my life.

21. I have trouble with the words “I deserve,” but feel comforted when I say, “I approve of myself.”

22. I seriously thought about signing up for a cupcake-eating contest just so I could eat two for free, but realized that wasn’t really the point.

23. I got so upset about a phone call I received on my way into Wal-Mart that halfway through my shopping list, I realized I was pushing someone else’s cart. I did a quick switch when I finally found my original cart. My apologies to the other shopper.

24. I used to find a lot wrong with others so I wouldn’t have to look at myself. I’m relieved to finally know focusing on myself is the solution to all my problems. And God, of course.

25. I look for signs everywhere like found money, dragonflies, our lucky number 13, the same message showing up three times, a line from a song, a quote from a movie. I told you, everywhere.

More? Just a few I can’t bear to leave out.

I like chocolate, love stories, cakes and cookies, a long walk, songs that make me cry, breezy days, our pillowtop mattress, living by water, down comforters, a swimming pool with a pink float, walking in the rain, dogs, green grass and lots of trees, my hammock chair, massages, napping on a comfy couch with chimes nearby …

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – I hope you’ll accept the challenge to write your list of 25 things, and share your link in the comment section so we can get to know you better. Pretty please. It’s actually fun and enlightening once you get going.

On the side: Thanks for the challenge from friends whose lists I admire, Jocelyn Wilhelm @ JW Social Media and author Jean Dalton.

Can you imagine being Kermit, especially around all this metaphorical talk about Eat That Frog? It’d be best to read that blog post first. It’s a main course to this one.

I’m quick to point out I never intended Jim Henson’s most famous Muppet to end up a meal, anymore than I’d invite you to sit down to a plateful of Bambi or Shari Lewis’ Lamb Chop.

Kermit the Frog is a favorite of mine.

In fact, I’ve always said, “Some of my best friends are cartoon characters.”

Don’t believe me? This is the crowd I hang with, at least on Google images.

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – Keeping in mind (big) birds of a feather flock together, and you are who you hang out with, and you’re as good as the people around you, I’m in pretty good company these days.

On the side: Only thing I can’t figure out, when I Google ‘S. Kim Henson’, Jim and the Muppets show up. But when I Google Jim Henson, I’m nowhere to be found. Strangest thing, don’t you think?

“What you get by achieving your goals is not as important as what you become by achieving your goals.” Zig Ziglar

WRite wHere I’m supposed to be – I’ll let you know if we make it to Ruth’s Chris Steak House instead of our all time favorite K&W Cafeteria. Of course, then we may have to postpone being debt-free. In the meantime, I’d love to read what’s on your before-you-kick-the-bucket-list list.

On the side: Thanks to friend and photographer Sally Taylor for giving permission to use her inspirational photos. Fly high!